“If I asked you to check on something for me, would you do it?”

“That’s what I’m here for, dear.”

I told her about the missing women. “The cops are involved so there has to be a file on at least one of those women, Sandra Molot. I need to know if they did a general homing spell using one of her personal effects. And same for the other three.”

“Hold on, dear, I’ll try to find out.”

She put me on hold. I waited, listening to the small noises coming over the empty phone line. The night had fallen, and the apartment was dark, save for the kitchen, and eerily quiet.

Tap. Tap.

Something scratched at my kitchen window. It was a small sound, like a dry twig striking the glass.

I was on the third floor. No trees stood close to the building.

Tap.

Silently I backed into the hallway and picked up Slayer, cradling the phone between my cheek and my shoulder.

The line came alive and I almost jumped. “Jennifer Ying has no file,” Maxine said.

“Aha.” I turned the light off, drowning the kitchen in darkness.

Tap. Tap.

I moved to the window.

“They do have files on the other three women.”

I reached for the curtain and jerked it aside. Two amber eyes glared at me, full of longing and hunger. A face that was a meld of wolf and human leaned on the glass. Its misshapen horrid jaws did not fit together right and long strands of drool hung from its crooked yellowed teeth.

The skin around the lupine nose wrinkled. The nightmarish thing sniffed the glass, blowing air through its black nostrils and making a small opaque circle of condensation. It raised one deformed hand and tapped the glass with an inch-long claw.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Both standard and high-end locating spells were made in all three cases. They were blocked and produced no results. Kate?”

“Thank you very much, Maxine,” I said, unable to take my gaze off the monster at my window. “I have to go now.”

“Any time, dear. Play nice with the wolf.”

Carefully I put the phone aside. Slayer in hand, I murmured the spell dissolving the ward around the glass and unlocked the window.

The claws hooked the window’s edge and effortlessly slid it upward. The wolf-man stepped inside with marked slowness, one furry sinewy leg at a time, and stood seven feet tall in my kitchen. Dense gray fur sheathed its head, shoulders, back, and limbs, leaving the sickening face and the muscular chest bare. I could see round dark spots dot-ting the skin tightly stretched over his pectorals.

“Alright, pretty boy. What do you have for me?”

He reached toward me, holding a large envelope in his claws. A red wax seal with some sort of imprint secured the envelope.

“Open it,” I directed.